Possibilities
by bgn
Summary: Each chapter stands alone, a different way Daryl and Glenn might have met, some with the ZA and some without.
1. Temptation

**Temptation**

Glenn

I'm in the mood to do something reckless. Like get laid at my boss's house if someone tempts me. Someone male of course. I had a couple of girlfriends in my teens but I haven't been interested in girls for years. Not even in high school really – I was just curious.

My boss is Dale Horvath, managing partner of the mental health clinic I joined two years ago with my brand new psychology degree in hand. Is it weird for a therapist to be obsessed with sex? Physician heal thyself! But I'm not usually obsessed, I'm just horny tonight.

Dale's wife Andrea likes to entertain and she's good at it so even a cocktails and canapés thing like this will be interesting. She's a lawyer and always invites people from both her world and her husband's and invitees are encouraged to bring a guest so it's an eclectic mix. You never know who you might meet here. Dale's mechanic Jim has shown up before but I don't see him tonight.

Since I'm not here primarily for sexual fulfillment I mingle after being greeted by Dale and Andrea. I say hello to Amy who's interning at the clinic. Little nepotism there since she's Andrea's younger sister but I've worked with her a couple of times and she's earning her place.

Vic Morales and his wife Miranda tell me they're taking their kids to visit family in Birmingham over spring break next week. He's a nice guy but also a family man and I'm not so I have to feign interest. Shouldn't I be genuinely interested in other people and their lives? Patients, yes. I'm getting paid for that. I know how that makes me sound but I assure you I'm not unique in my attitude. Therapists are people, too. We can't be caring and committed every second.

Rick Grimes introduces me to his wife Lori. Rick is the sheriff of a small town near Atlanta. I was assigned to evaluate a prisoner a few months ago. I didn't do anything spectacular but Rick was impressed. It's not like I saved his life although I may have helped his career a little.

I haven't had a drink yet so I work my way around to the bar in the corner. I don't really like the taste of alcohol and would rather have a soda but that seems wimpy so I man up and ask for scotch. I glance at the nameplate on the barkeep's shirt and say thank you to Randall. I'm always polite to service staff. I delivered pizza while I was in college.

There's a man standing with his back to me and I can't help noticing how well his gray slacks fit. He's holding a beer bottle in one hand and the other hand is in his pocket which tightens the fabric just enough to hug his ass. He's wearing a blue shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and folded back. His shoulders are broad and his arms look strong. I'm tempted.

The man turns to the bar. His eyes match the shirt and he has a scruffy chin, not a goatee really, just enough facial hair to make him look extremely fuckable. He reaches for a bowl of nuts, picks one out and pops it in his mouth. I'm fascinated watching him chew a cashew.

I sip my drink and look in the bowl. "Brazil nuts – my favorite."

"You like big nuts, huh?"

I smile. He didn't say it in a flirtatious way, more like guys sharing an adolescent joke. But in my professional opinion any man making a joke like that to another man is likely to be open to taking the joke further.

I offer up my name: "I'm Glenn."

"Daryl," the man replies.

"I work with Dale Horvath. How did you end up here?"

"Came with the better half," Daryl says, glancing around a little nervously. There's a ring on his left hand.

"Ah, doing your duty. Business events, in-laws, movies you would otherwise never watch. If you feel like taking a break, there's a room down the hall. I need a break, too."

"Yeah, okay."

People are milling around so it's easy to slip out. There's a bathroom next door and with fluid intake others are going in and out. I pass it and go down two more doors. It's a small sitting room with a couple of armchairs and end tables. Daryl seems ill at ease now that we're alone together. He stares at his hands turning the bottle.

"You don't know many people out there?" I ask to get him talking.

Daryl shakes his head. "I'm not so good with strangers."

"What do you do?"

"I own Dixon Outfitters. Co-own. It's me and my brother. Hunting and fishing and outdoors equipment, stuff like that."

"You must have to talk to people at the store."

"Well, sure, customers. That's different. They come in wanting something."

"I want something, too. You probably know that."

"I figured."

"Are you interested?"

Daryl is biting his lip. He hasn't looked directly at me since the bar. His eyes slide away from mine and settle on my ear.

"Right here?" he asks.

"I locked the door on our way in."

"What if I want to leave?"

"Then you go. But if you're curious … If you like what you see as much as I do …" I put my hand on his leg. He doesn't flinch.

"What would we do?"

"Whatever we want. Whatever feels good." I take the bottle from him and put it on an end table. "Can I kiss you?"

Daryl looks surprised like he didn't expect that to be part of the deal. But he nods. I get up and sit on his chair arm and lean down. He turns his face up and our mouths meet. He doesn't open his mouth but it's not closed tight either. His lips are almost soft at first but firmer as he returns the pressure. They feel a little chapped and I like the roughness when he starts rubbing his mouth against mine. I move my hand up his leg and feel his hand between my legs. It's obvious we're both at the same stage of arousal. Daryl is making sounds … wait, that's me … no, it's both of us.

I lean back. "Do you want my mouth someplace else?"

"I kind of like where it was," he says. "Your hand is good, too."

Mutual masturbation. I'm in. I love getting blown but I'm also a kisser and I'm glad Daryl wants to continue. A minute later our pants are open and underwear pulled down. I straddle him so our cocks are pressed together, hands joined around them. Our mouths are open now and our tongues are imitating our cocks. It's going too fast. I'm not going to last long and it doesn't sound like Daryl is far behind. Normally I'd like to slow down, hold off, but in these circumstances we can't take as much time as we might like. Oh, god, we're going to make a mess. My other hand scrabbles in my pocket for a handkerchief and I get it out just in time.

Our foreheads are on each other's shoulders. In between my pants I can hear Daryl's labored breathing. When I pull away, his eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. He looks pretty much like I feel. I don't want to move yet but we've been gone long enough. There's a powder room in the corner and if the bathroom in the hall is in use someone might want this one. Although the Horvath house is huge and there are plenty of bathrooms scattered around.

"We should clean up," I whisper.

Daryl nods and gets up still holding me and carries me to the closet that was converted to a half bath with sink and stool. What the hell am I going to do with a handkerchief full of cum? I don't want to leave it behind and I can't carry it around. These things never seem important before the main event. I rinse it, wring it out, wrap it in a couple of tissues and stick it in my pocket.

Daryl leaves first, with his beer bottle. I saunter out a few minutes later. Time to circulate again.

I chat with Dr. Greene and Maggie, who was in college with Andrea's sister Amy. Hershel is a true old gentleman of Georgia, a veterinarian, and a widower since Mrs. Greene died last year. The younger daughter Beth is 17 and took it particularly hard. Then her boyfriend Jimmy was killed a few months later and Beth was suicidal for awhile. I'm glad to hear she's doing better now.

Morgan Jones is talking with the Grimes'. They've got sons about the same age. I recognize Otis and Patricia across the room although I don't know them well. Daryl is with them and a woman I've seen but not met. I think her name is Carol. Cute – their names rhyme.

Time to go. Dr. Jenner and Jacqui Prescott just left together and a few others are heading for the door. Daryl and I are going on to dinner. His choice since he had to attend a function he's not very comfortable at. I catch Daryl's eye and he leaves the group without showing his eagerness to be gone. We say goodnight to Andrea and Dale. It's not quite spring and the evening is cool. My car is a block away.

"I feel better than I did when we got here," Daryl says.

"Because it's over or because of the sex?"

"Well, both."

"I recall you saying something about my freaky role-playing games when I suggested it on the way over."

"I take that back. Sorry I was late. We would have had time before we left."

"It worked out."

"Yeah, that was all right." Daryl sounds very satisfied.

"Which is not to say that we can't repeat it at home."

"Count on it." Daryl paused. "I was late because Merle called. He gets out of rehab next week."

"He should stay with us for awhile."

"I'll tell him but he probably won't."

"How did he sound?"

"Good. For now. But I'm afraid it'll be like last time. Clean and sober for awhile, maybe a year, and then it'll start up again."

"Always a possibility but maybe not this time."

"I hope not. You didn't sign up for this."

"Yes, I did, Daryl. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"We both come with family baggage."

"But yours is in Michigan."

"Did I tell you Mom and Dad are getting sick of snow? Pretty sure they'll move here when they retire."

Daryl snorts and shakes his head. He doesn't really mind. He gets along with his in-laws although they're not officially family. We've been together three years and never felt the need for a public ceremony, which wouldn't be recognized in Georgia anyway, but we did start wearing rings after the first year. We like them and it stops unwanted interest.

"Where to?" I ask when we're in the car.

"Pancake house," Daryl says happily. He means The Original Pancake House. I should have known it would be that or Denny's or IHOP. I'm relaxed and hungry and a big breakfast sounds just right.

In the booth after ordering I tell him he looks good. Daryl always looks good to me but I want him to know I appreciate his effort tonight.

He shrugs one shoulder to deflect the compliment, as usual. "You said I always wear black and gray so …"

"You changed it up to gray and blue. I approve."

"You're the one looks good. I still remember you in those jeans and tee shirt and cap."

"I'm surprised. You got me out of them pretty fast."

"Well, you look good in anything or nothing."

"Should we get this to go? Are you going to be able to make it home?"

"We'll eat here. But I make no promises about the parking lot."

I believe him and I'm looking forward to making out a little in the car but my hopes are dashed when two of Atlanta's finest stroll in. They nod at us but don't stop. Shane Walsh and Theodore Douglas. We know them because they arrested Merle a couple of months ago which led to his second stint in rehab. They were actually very decent about the situation, much more so than Merle who was not on his best behavior. Even after he was handcuffed Merle flailed around so much that he broke his wrist. The break and the handcuffs cut off the blood supply to his hand. It was bad enough that he might have lost it; as it was he ended up with some nerve damage. I'm hopeful that Merle was brought to his senses by this but Daryl is afraid to believe it will have a lasting effect. Can't blame him – he's lived with Merle a lot longer than I have.

Daryl grins at me. "Guess we better not do anything in the parking lot that will get us arrested."

We're full when we leave and by the time we get home we're also sleepy so we agree to wait until morning.

Home is a one-and-a-half story bungalow set back among some trees behind Dixon Outfitters just outside Atlanta. Daryl and Merle own the property and they used to live together but as Merle's substance abuse required more privacy he moved to their grandparents' place 20 minutes away. It's a cabin rather than a house and it's not in great shape since the old folks passed.

Our half-story is an attic with sloping ceilings that reduce the available living space but it's still almost half the size of the first floor so we put in a bathroom and fixed it up as a master bedroom suite. The two bedrooms below are my office and a guest room where Merle crashes occasionally. I'm buying out Merle's share of the house which is fair to Merle but also does him no favors since it provides him with an income that he doesn't spend wisely.

The next morning I'm awake before Daryl so I pull the sheet back and enjoy the view. Daryl's penis is limp against his leg. It occurs to me that I think of the male member as a penis when it's soft and a cock when it's hard. Daryl just calls it a dick. I run my finger along the underside and swirl my thumb around the head. It twitches. Daryl makes a growly sound in his throat but doesn't wake. I watch his penis turn into a cock. I'm familiar with the process so I wait for each stage: pale pink flushing to dark red, lengthening and thickening before it actually erects. I can tell when it's stiff enough to lift so I spread my fingers, flourish my hands and whisper, "Abracadabra! Shazam!"

I didn't notice Daryl's eyes open. He squints at me through the morning light. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm a magician. I made your cock levitate."

Daryl looks down at himself. "Not much of a trick. He always stands up when you're around." He rubs his hair, stretches widely with limbs akimbo and, since his cock isn't in the way, scratches his balls. "I need to piss."

Me, too. We stand on opposite sides of the stool and hold each other's cocks. This isn't our usual way of visiting the bathroom but every so often we like it. Bladder issues dealt with, we go back to bed and do other things that we like even more.

Over the next few days I think about Merle and what we can do for him. As a therapist I've learned there isn't much unless he wants help. Ironically, Daryl and I met because of Merle. It was the end of my junior year and I was making a late delivery to Dixon Outfitters. It was closed and dark but the order said go around to the side door. There was a man in the stockroom going along the shelves with an electronic device in his hand. I knocked and he jerked with surprise as he turned. It looked like he was so busy he'd forgotten he ordered pizza. He came to the door and let me in and patted his pockets. He was attractive as hell but he wasn't getting free pizza just because he left his wallet in his other pants.

He said, "Just a minute," and disappeared into an office. It was several minutes before he returned with the money but he included a nice tip so it was worth the wait. He looked even better to me at second glance. Maybe he would have got the pizza free after all.

"Sorry you had to wait. I can't eat all this. You want some?"

I was hungry. The pizza would do instead. "Yeah, thanks. My shift just ended."

So we sat down and ate pizza and drank sodas and talked. I found out he was Daryl Dixon and he owned the business with his brother. I told him that I had probably just delivered my last pizza because I got a paid internship for the summer and it would continue through my final year of college.

"Why are you taking inventory alone?" I asked.

"The office manager is on maternity leave and the stock boys are in high school and studying for finals. There's two more on staff but both have stuff they couldn't get out of."

"What about your brother?"

Daryl was quiet for a moment. "Merle's kind of a screw-up. He just went into rehab. And he's lucky because it could have been prison instead."

I was 21 and thought Daryl was at least five years older. Later I found out he's seven years older. I pictured Merle as an irresponsible kid not much older than me.

"Maybe this will teach him a lesson and he'll grow up."

Daryl just looked at me. "Merle is older not younger. He's 35 and he's not real teachable."

Oops. But I was liking Daryl more and more despite the brother. "Listen, can I help?" I asked. "You're already tired and this way you'll get to bed at one instead of three."

Daryl took me up on the offer. I caught on quickly and we worked steadily for an hour. I noticed every time our shoulders touched or arms brushed. I began making sure it happened. And then I reached for a high shelf and my tee shirt rode up and suddenly I felt Daryl's hand on my stomach. His little finger and ring finger slipped inside the top of my jeans and rubbed against the waistband of my briefs.

"What's going on?" Daryl asked.

"I'm not sure but it's happening to both of us," I replied.

Daryl had sounded genuinely bewildered. I was already sure he was gay, too, but I was glad that whatever this was seemed to be a first for him. We didn't kiss yet. We both knew the inventory wouldn't get finished if we did.

We got to bed at one but we didn't sleep until three.

That first time Daryl went to meet his brother alone after rehab but this time we both go. It was Andrea's law firm and recommendations from my clinic that kept Merle out of prison this time. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to bat for him. We probably should have made him accept the consequences but I know more about the Dixon brothers' background now and I wanted Merle to have one last chance.

His eyes are clear and he looks healthier than he has for a year. He's subdued which is different from the belligerence last time. He thanks me for helping and agrees to stay with us for awhile. He says he wants to fix up the Bisbee place. I hope he does. It needs to be done and it would be good for Merle. He's also going to help with the business which Daryl appreciates. These are all good signs but we know better than to bask in success.

Two days later Merle starts sneaking around to make furtive phone calls, presumably to his dealer. He really played us this time. I wonder if Daryl has noticed yet. He can be a little blind about his brother's faults. But when I see him I know he knows and it makes me furious with Merle. Daryl is not a quitter but he looks defeated and I can tell he's wondering if it's time to give up on his brother.

We confront Merle and learn that it's not what we think. Merle confesses that he met somebody and my heart sinks. Two addicts? Love among the needles? Getting involved with someone so soon during recovery is a bad idea. But Merle says she wasn't a patient. A therapist? This is even worse. I'm already planning to report her. But it's not quite that bad because it turns out there's a new program at the clinic where instructors in various sports are brought in to interest the patients in a new hobby which will also give them a physical outlet.

The doorbell rings and Merle brings back a dark-skinned woman, beautiful but severe-looking. "This is Michonne," he says proudly.

Merle announces that he's taken up fencing. Daryl looks puzzled. Barbed wire, pickets and privacy are the only fences he's familiar with. Michonne explains epées, foils and sabres. She and Merle will give us a demonstration sometime. She also has a collection of katanas and other old swords.

That night after our tension-relieving activities, Daryl and I talk.

"What do you think of Merle's woman?" Daryl asks.

"Scary. Don't let her hurt me." I'm only half-joking.

Daryl chuckles. "Probably be an asset if the world was ending or somethin' but I tell you what, if I didn't have my crossbow and rifle in the house and a store full of guns across the way, I mighta been uneasy myself."


	2. Conviction

**Conviction**

Daryl

Six months into his two year bit Daryl Dixon got a new cellmate. He'd had one before when he first got sent up; or rather Leroy got Daryl since it was Leroy's house by seniority at that point.

Because of his name, Leroy fancied 'Big Bad Leroy Brown' as the soundtrack to his life but he'd forgotten that by the end of the song Leroy looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone. When Leroy went to the infirmary a month later the missing pieces were his right testicle and the tip of his left thumb. Daryl had objected to relieving Leroy's sexual tension and, though smaller than Leroy, Daryl was the meaner junkyard dog. Daryl went to the hole while the incident was investigated. He was eventually cleared on the grounds of self-defense. The unspoken verdict was that if Leroy couldn't control his bitch, he got what he deserved. The warden was wary of Daryl, however, and since conditions weren't crowded at the time - a rare state of affairs in a Deep South prison - Daryl became sole proprietor of Leroy's house.

But prison population ebbs and flows and a few months later it was necessary to double up again. Daryl kept to himself and based on his handling of Leroy, the others left him alone. He didn't appear to be violent unless provoked and hopefully this new fish, a young Asian man on a short bit, wouldn't annoy Daryl. He was also small enough not to be a threat sexually. So Glenn Chang landed in Daryl's house.

Glenn was cheerful considering his surroundings and he liked to chat. Daryl, who was accustomed to his own company, decided to teach Glenn the lesson about kids being seen and not heard.

"Hey!" Daryl spoke sharply, cutting Glenn off mid-word.

"Yes?"

The kid sounded hesitant. Good. "You ever shut up?" Daryl asked.

"Sorry, I know I talk too much." Glenn sounded apologetic. "I don't even realize it's happening. I'm doing it again. It's a nervous habit." His voice trailed off.

Sweet silence ensued. A few minutes later Daryl was mad at himself for thinking that silence might be overrated. He thought he was used to it, he thought solitude suited him but now, after he had stopped the source, he thought a little conversation wouldn't be unwelcome. If he started it, maybe the kid would keep it going.

"I make you nervous?"

"Oh no, not at all."

The kid sounded as if he was afraid he'd insulted Daryl.

Glenn went on: "I mean, not really. A little, I guess. Maybe a lot."

Daryl smiled to himself. The kid had completely reversed himself in 10 seconds. "How do I make you nervous?"

"Well, it's the whole situation mostly. Prison makes me nervous. And you've been here awhile so you know what's going on and I don't."

"How long you in for?"

"A year."

"What's the beef?"

"GTA."

"You stole a car?"

"More than one, actually."

"Why?"

"I had some financial difficulties."

Daryl frowned. He was sharing a cell with a kid who said 'financial difficulties' instead of 'money trouble.' "Lemme guess. You were puttin' it up your nose."

"I don't do drugs." Glenn was indignant. "A little weed sometimes but that's it."

"You a betting man? Or maybe you like to buy a stairway to heaven instead of just fucking for free on the steps."

"I don't gamble and I've never been with a prostitute."

The kid sounded a little cold about these accusations.

"Okay, I give up," Daryl said. "Why?"

"I was paying off school loans."

Daryl had to think about that for a bit. "Stealing cars to pay for college? Why didn't you get a job? I hear they're hiring college kids."

"Not history majors. It's a glutted market." Glenn sounded glum. "And I didn't want to move away from Atlanta."

"Well, you're about 80 miles away right now."

Glenn kind of giggled. "Yeah, but it's all expenses paid."

Daryl couldn't stop a snort of laughter. This kid was the most good-natured greener he'd ever come across.

Glenn must have figured Daryl was in the right mood for inquisition. "Can I ask what you're in for?"

"Robbery."

"How long?"

"Two years. Got 18 months left."

"But you'll get out sooner with good behavior, right?"

"Nope. You're the one will probably be gone in nine or ten months. I'll be here my whole stretch."

"Why?"

"You ain't the first cellmate I had. I got put in here with Leroy and I musta reminded him of his wife."

Glenn thought about that. "Oh," he said. "You mean he wanted to …?"

Daryl explained what happened. "Self-defense means I didn't get time added to my sentence. But they won't let me go early."

"That's not fair!"

Glenn was obviously on his side which pleased Daryl for some reason. It made him feel protective and he decided to help him. "Kid, you're gonna be meat for everybody if you don't change your ways. You gotta start acting like a convict instead of an inmate."

"What do you mean?"

"You know Kung Fu?"

"That's Chinese. I'm Korean."

"Whatever. You know any martial arts, street fighting, anything?"

"No. I played softball."

"If you had a bat in here you could protect yourself but you're not big, not strong, and nobody's fast enough or smart enough to keep away from some of these perverts. You gotta stay low as much as you can."

And so began Glenn's instruction in surviving prison. Every day Daryl gave a lesson.

"The yard, chow hall, iron pile, anywhere, keep your eyes moving. Don't stare at anybody or anything. If you catch somebody's eye, hold it a second to show respect then move on. But don't look down – that's submissive and weak."

"In the showers don't look at anybody's dick including yours, and don't wave yours around but don't cover up either. In and out fast. And don't get hard."

"Sometimes I can't help it," Glenn said anxiously. He was 22 chronologically but 16 hormonally.

"Then you best yank your doodle in here so it don't happen out there."

Glenn knew he got lucky with Daryl as a bunkmate. That's what it felt like sometimes, being roomies at summer camp. Until the day he got caught.

Daryl was working a kitchen shift when he was approached by a known snitch who nonetheless usually had solid info. Randall baited Daryl by hinting that his news concerned Glenn. The deal was quickly made and Randall sealed it with, "Your boy is getting boned in the cubby" before slinking away to his next transaction.

There was a half-full bag of dirty towels and aprons. Daryl stuffed it with clean ones to fill it up and offered to make a run to the laundry. Glenn was working there today. The cubbyhole was a small spot created by a wall cut around an enclosed vent. It was often ignored by the guards so that's where all kinds of goods changed hands: smokes, drugs, weapons and sex.

When Daryl arrived he clubbed the lookout with the heavy laundry bag and went around the corner. A con named Dave was holding Glenn who was bent over with his ass in the air. Daryl kicked Dave with a fury that put him on the floor then turned his attention to Fat Tony who was apparently too dumb to know that he shouldn't mess with Daryl or anything in Daryl's house. Daryl had saved his shank for this – he hadn't wanted to chance breaking it on anybody but the instigator. It slid from his sleeve seam into his hand. He hooked an arm around Tony's neck from behind. Tony bucked against him but Daryl was a man possessed. He reached below Tony's gut, stabbed at his dick and drew blood. Tony tried to howl but he was being choked. Daryl turned him toward the wall, grabbed his hair and sliced Tony's throat. Tony collapsed, his body shielding Daryl and Glenn from blood spray. Dave, unconscious on the floor, wasn't so lucky. Daryl put his shank in Dave's hand, pressed his fingers around it and hustled Glenn away. The lookout had recovered from being hit by the laundry bag and had wisely disappeared.

There was no color in Glenn's face and he was shaking. Daryl pulled his pants up and told him to get it together and go back to his place. "You didn't see anything and you didn't hear anything. The machines are noisy."

No one was shocked when every man in the laundry told the same tale. Just as had happened with Daryl months before, Dave went to ad-seg and was eventually returned to population with the verdict of self-defense against sexual predations.

"Won't Dave report you?" Glenn asked later in their cell.

"Fat Tony is dead and Dave has a rep now. Unearned but it still gives him cred. He'll leave it alone."

Glenn was quiet for awhile before asking, "Daryl, do you like me?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"I meant, if you wanted me to help you feel good, I could do that."

"You offering because I kept the others away from you?"

"Not exactly, but I am grateful."

"You don't need to suck me or bottom to prove it."

"What if I wanted to?"

"You queer?"

"Yes."

"And you think I am?"

"No. I don't know. And it doesn't matter."

"I'll think about it." Daryl was thinking of something else right then. "I didn't catch on to you bein' that way."

"You mean I didn't act gay? We're not all flaming queens."

"You ever been with a girl?"

"Just fooling around. I tried once but I couldn't. I knew when I was pretty young."

"How'd you know?"

"The first time I came, my best friend all through school was sleeping over. He didn't know and I never told him. Girls were just kids I knew and liked but never thought of that way."

"You have boyfriends?"

"A few. No one the last two years. What about you? You have girlfriends?"

"Naw. Not like dating and stuff. I'm not the guy girls bring home to meet the folks."

Daryl considered his limited sexual experience. Like Glenn, the first time he came he'd been thinking about a boy at school. They weren't really friends – Dixons didn't make friends – but Rollie was a classmate and Daryl liked him and they were on the same team a lot in gym. The actual coming part had overshadowed what Daryl was thinking about at the time. He'd had the usual fumblings with a couple of girls in high school but they didn't want to go all the way and Daryl had been relieved to stop. Looking back, it seemed clear that both girls expected him to overcome their objections and were disappointed when he didn't.

Daryl had finally fucked a girl just before his 20th birthday because he was embarrassed to leave his teens as a virgin. Jackie was a local woman known to be the town bicycle when she'd had a few drinks. Anyone could ride her. Daryl lost his virginity and his illusions about sex. It just wasn't a big deal. Truthfully, it was more satisfying to jerk off alone with his thoughts. Which he was careful not to analyze later. A man couldn't be blamed for what was in his mind at a time like that, could he?

Daryl supposed it wasn't such a surprise that he was bent that way. He wasn't the most self-aware person but you didn't reach 28 without considering your nature at least subconsciously and then ignoring the evidence if you didn't like what you saw. But now he had to admit that it wasn't the act itself he objected to when Leroy made his move, it was the man.

Daryl thought about Glenn and his offer and shifted uncomfortably. He was hard. He sighed. What were the chances that a closeted redneck would get a gay cellmate? One hundred percent.

It started almost shyly, Glenn using only his hand on Daryl. The next time Daryl made Glenn feel good, too. They progressed to mouths and, because Glenn's need for affection included kissing, they often just lay face to face with pricks and bellies pressed together. Eventually Glenn asked Daryl to top him and then there seemed no reason why Daryl shouldn't try that as well.

Daryl's illusions about sex were restored. This was a big deal after all, though he was also sure the right person made it that way.

Six months later Glenn was notified of his parole after only eight months inside. Daryl had known their time together was running out but he figured they had another month or two. Suddenly it was one week.

Visiting days were Saturday and Sunday and Glenn promised to be there every weekend.

"No promises," Daryl insisted. "You don't know what might happen out there."

Glenn nodded. "But I want to come and see you. I love you, Daryl. And you've only got 10 months left. We'll be together then, won't we?"

"I hope so, kid, but you remember what I told you. You don't make plans in here. Day by day, that's how you get through it." Daryl knew that was a lesson Glenn had never learned. The kid had been making plans since they got together. Daryl knew he couldn't stop him so he went along with it but he never really believed. And now Glenn used the L word. Daryl felt like saying it back but he couldn't deal with what that would mean so he ignored it.

Glenn showed up the first and second weekends. He was starting a job delivering pizza. The owner had been inside years back and he hired other ex-cons whenever he could.

Daryl wasn't surprised when Glenn called the third weekend instead of visiting. He had to work; he was the new guy and had no say in his shifts. He visited the fourth weekend but called the fifth and sixth. Glenn sounded anguished but Daryl was stoic. He was already distancing himself from the thought of Glenn and a life together. Daryl had eight months left inside and Glenn had that same amount of time outside to start a new life without him. Daryl was used to not getting what he wanted. He didn't let himself wonder if he would see or hear from Glenn again.

A few days later weird shit started happening in the world outside. It was serious enough that the warden locked down the facility. Prisoners were out only for meals. No TV, radio, visitors or phone calls. But the guards passed things along. Reports came through of some new virus … a pandemic spreading like wildfire … people eating each other … resurrection of the dead. The rumors got crazier and Daryl was skeptical. He was amused at first to think that prison might be the safest place to wait out the sickness and insanity.

But then the first guard turned. And another one. And then a prisoner. The situation deteriorated rapidly after that. Whatever was going on passed from cellblock to cellblock. Daryl hadn't had a cellmate since Glenn left. He had been part of an early release program for the nonviolent and first-time offenders in order to make room for new intake. Daryl would have been doubled up this week if the facility hadn't been locked down. He hadn't been looking forward to sharing his house anyway and now he was grateful not to be stuck with some sick bastard.

When it became clear that society outside was already breaking down, the prison population began begging for relief. They hadn't been let out for a meal today and there were only some contraband snacks in the cells. Daryl watched and waited. He knew the opportunity would come. Someone would give in and open the cell doors. Thank god for bleeding heart liberals. It would be a free-for-all for awhile but Daryl operated best in that kind of environment.

Daryl pulled the thin mattress off Glenn's top bunk and used his shiv to cut slits in the canvas cover for hand holds. You couldn't let those things get close enough to bite or scratch. Daryl worried about Glenn. The kid was on his own in a world gone wrong and Daryl was sitting on his ass 80 miles away. What if Daryl couldn't find him when he got out of here? What if Glenn was already dead? Daryl shut down those thoughts. He was ready when he heard the snick as the locks released. The barred door of his cell and all the others in his block and no doubt all over the prison slid slowly open.

Daryl gripped his mattress as a shield but just as he was about to leave a crowd of walkers lurched by. They weren't steady on their feet and two of them stumbled into Daryl's cell. He stayed close to the wall, keeping the mattress up as he edged past them. They seemed to have a sense of smell and motion because they were on him in an instant. He was in no real danger, protected by the mattress. He charged forward and swept them into the opposite wall. They fell and Daryl turned back in time to see the door slam shut. A mistake? An automatic override? Somebody having second thoughts about mercy for prisoners? Daryl expected the doors to open again but hours passed and they didn't. All the doors were closed. Probably a few others were trapped as Daryl was but none within his sight.

Meanwhile there was movement under the mattress and Daryl decided to kill the almost dead. There had been talk of reanimation due to electrical synapses still active in the brain. Daryl tested the theory by bashing one walker's head against the wall and floor until he stopped moving. But hell, that would stop anyone. Daryl wrapped the second one in the mattress but left his head free. Daryl's shiv wouldn't penetrate the skull so he plunged it through one eye and the geek went limp.

After that Daryl waited to die like a rat in a cage. He wasn't entirely resigned to his fate but he didn't believe in miracles either. He had some peanut butter and cheese crackers and a couple of candy bars. When the power failed and the back-up generator kicked in, he cleaned the toilet, flushed and let it fill again. The far corner of the cell became his privy. He stopped up the sink and filled that as well. The water shut off a day later. His food was gone. He wondered how long he'd last after the sink and toilet were dry.

Two days later he was weak from hunger and down to the last bit of water. The prison was mostly quiet now. Daryl had shouted at first but it brought only walkers to his cell. They bumped against the bars trying to reach him and finally staggered away, falling down the stairs to the tier below. There was an occasional groan but the walkers visible to him looked to be in a dormant state.

Daryl knew he was slipping in and out of wakefulness. He'd always tried not to have regrets; they didn't seem useful. Here at the end he had only one: that he never told Glenn he loved him. The kid knew it, of course. You didn't share what they had for six months without knowing that your partner loved you even if he was an asshole incapable of saying the words.

"Daryl!"

Glenn's voice. This was a nice dream. "Love you," Daryl whispered.

"Daryl?"

The voice was closer. "Already said I love you," Daryl muttered.

"Daryl." The voice was outside his cell. "Wake up! You're not dead. You can't be."

Daryl opened his eyes. Six weeks back in the world and Glenn got fat. Daryl squinted. Maybe it was just the hockey pads and shin guards that made him look bulky. And the goalie mask that made him look like Jason. "What took you so long?" Daryl rasped.

Glenn took off the mask and grinned. "That's the first thing you say to me?"

Daryl sat up and groped for the bit of sheet he'd ripped off. He soaked it in the last mouthful of water and sucked until his throat didn't feel parched. "I love you," he said gruffly. "Now get me the fuck out of here."

Glenn dug in a backpack and pulled out a bottle of water and a pack of pudding cups. He pushed them through the bars. "Sip the water slowly or you'll throw up."

"Vanilla pudding?" Daryl asked.

"It's bland but it'll give you energy. You shouldn't eat anything heavy right away."

"You know where the door controls are?"

"I checked on the way in. They won't open. Looks like there was a fire. Wires are fused."

"You shoulda brought a cake with a file baked in it. I could eat the cake while you get me out."

"Files are old school." Glenn pulled an acetylene torch and goggles from the backpack and went to work.

Daryl ate the pudding. It tasted wonderful. Cake would have been too dry. His strength was coming back. He finished the water and wondered what else was in that backpack. It was like a magician's hat the way Glenn kept pulling shit out.

Glenn finished just as a walker rushed toward him. Daryl reached for his mattress and stepped through the gap in the bars but Glenn pulled a baseball bat from the backpack and whacked the walker in a beautiful swing that caught him full-body. He toppled over the waist-high rail and Daryl reached it in time to see the walker land headfirst on the floor three tiers down. He didn't get up.

"Guess I didn't have to worry about you alone out there after all."

"Because you taught me how to take care of myself," Glenn said. "But alone doesn't work outside for long. Not now. We have to sleep but they don't." Glenn spied legs under the mattress in Daryl's cell. "Looks like you took a couple out. You know about the brain thing?"

"Yeah, one of the guards told me before he turned. He's under the mattress."

"I met some people on my way out of Atlanta," Glenn said as they made their way out of the prison. "An old guy called Dale in an RV with two sisters he rescued. They're going to that quarry near Atlanta. There's water so other survivors will probably be there. I thought we could stop at your house on the way. You said you have a tent and weapons."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I need my crossbow. You should go on to the quarry but there's somebody I gotta check on. My brother is at Hays."

"You have a brother in another prison? Why didn't I know this before?"

"Merle doesn't like homos. Thought it was better to leave him out of our conversation."

"Will he mind being rescued by us?"

"Pretty sure he'll make an exception. Maybe he's already out. But I gotta know."

"He's probably on his way here while we're going there."

"He'd go to the house first just like us. I'll know if he's been there. I can leave a note."

Daryl liked that Glenn didn't even discuss the possibility of splitting up. They were staying together. He looked around at the destruction outside. Vehicles stopped, overturned, crashed into each other. Dead bodies in various stages of decomp under the hot July sun of Georgia. But at least most walkers seemed to have left the area.

Glenn walked over to a red Scion FR-S. He stripped off his hockey gear and threw it in the back seat. He handed Daryl more water, a loaf of bread and canned meat. "I'll drive. You need to eat and drink."

"You steal this car?" Daryl asked.

"What did you expect?" Glenn said. "Vehicle theft has the highest rate of recidivism. But the owner won't be pressing charges."


	3. Evaluation

**Evaluation**

Glenn

I'm looking over the file on my next patient. I studied it last night as I do with all new patients so this is just a refresher. Merle Dixon has been referred for a court-ordered evaluation due to anger issues and abusive behavior. His mug shot shows a hard face with cold eyes, a mean mouth and close-cropped hair. He probably doesn't know my name. The court usually just gives an address and appointment time to prevent preconceived ideas such as not wanting to be evaluated by a woman. Or an Asian.

A man looms in the doorway. His head matches the mug shot. I stand and smile slightly, careful not to give a big, happy grin. Have to strike the right balance.

"Merle Dixon?"

Merle looks disgusted. "A Chink shrink? I gotta let a Chinaman in my head?"

"Good news, I'm Korean. I'm Dr. Chang."

"Chang sounds Chinese."

"It's a common surname for several Asian countries."

"Don't I have the right to an American doctor?"

"I was born in Michigan. Come in and have a seat."

Merle looks around. "No couch? I was plannin' on takin' a nap."

"I bet you can sleep sitting up."

Merle glowers as if he didn't expect me to tolerate much less encourage his taunts. I've found that you can learn a lot by letting a patient act out. For awhile. Have to know when to rein them in.

"You some kind of Doogie Howser? Graduate med school when you were 12?"

"I'm older than I look. And I'm a psychologist not a psychiatrist so I didn't go to med school."

"You're not a real doctor? Ain't that fraud or practicing without a license?"

"I'm a doctor but it's a doctorate of psychology not a medical degree. I assure you I'm fully trained and licensed."

"How come you're seein' me? Is this some pro bono deal?"

"I'm a consultant to Atlanta PD. I also take referrals from surrounding police departments that don't have their own consultants."

"Don't sound like you'll get rich doin' that."

"Oh, I'll be raking it in eventually. But this is a good way to start while I build a private practice."

Merle gives a bark of laughter. He seems to like that I'm up front about my goals in life.

"Let's get started. Can you tell me why you're here?"

"You got my file, Doc. Do your own homework."

"I did, but I'd like to hear your side."

"Well, it was all a misunderstanding."

I page through the file. "Two previous assaults on two different men in two different bars. The third and most recent assault was on your brother. Witnesses claim there was no provocation. Please, Merle, help me understand."

"I was too provoked! Daryl shoulda known what could happen."

"Daryl is your brother? How did he provoke you?"

"Told me he was a fag. My own brother!"

Should I or should I not come out to my new homophobic patient? Sharing personal info is not usually advised but this is relevant and it may even be enough conflict of interest that Merle should be evaluated by someone else.

"I myself am a gay man," I say calmly.

He looks surprised and then mad. "They do this on purpose?" Merle shouts. "Send me to a queer to mess with me?" He stands up and starts for me. No impulse control.

"Sit down, Merle. Let's discuss this. I can refer you if …"

Merle looks enraged. He's not sitting down. I don't think he even heard me. I pull out the Taser. Merle's eyes widen and he tries to stop but momentum is not his friend. I give him a mild jolt and he collapses, twitching. Doesn't look or smell like he lost control of his bladder. I have a glass of water ready when he starts to sit up.

"Do you want to drink this or shall I pour it over you?"

"Could use somethin' stronger," Merle grumbles, but he drinks some water.

"I'm sorry that was necessary, Merle, but you can see that with our size difference I had to even the odds. On the plus side, I believe I understand why you've been referred for evaluation. But I also know that I may not be the right person to perform the evaluation. I'll refer you to another consultant. Let me check if there's a heterosexual white male available." I don't bother to disguise my sarcasm.

"Don't wanna start over with someone else," Merle mutters.

I'm stunned. Not as stunned as Merle was, of course. "You want to continue with the gay Asian who just tazed you?"

"Queer Korean sounds better."

"It is alliterate."

"Don't think you're s'posed to call me illiterate," Merle says belligerently.

"I said alliterate. It means words that start with the same sound."

This meeting has turned surreal. I won't say that out loud. Merle probably doesn't know what it means. I can't say I'm looking forward to having him as a patient but he's not run-of-the-mill crazy, that's for sure. Maybe I'll end up writing an article.

"Seriously, Merle, you have to promise that there will be no violence in the future. You won't get another chance if you break that promise."

"Don't worry. I don't enjoy bein' electrocuted, you know."

"May I ask why you want to continue with me?"

"I feel sorry for you."

I'm stunned again. I try to think like Merle and come up with a reason but I can't put myself that far back down the evolutionary path so I just ask him, "Why do you feel sorry for me?"

"You got two strikes against you: queer and Korean. If you was a woman you'd win the trifecta of affirmative action."

"Do you realize that is homophobic, racist and sexist?"

"Should you be labeling me like that?"

In some twisted way, he's right. Maybe he's more evolved than I thought. Or maybe he just has animal cunning. This isn't going to be easy but I like a challenge.

"You're right, Merle, you deserve a new and unique category of your own. I think we're done for today. How about Thursday at four pm? You shouldn't drive yet. Is there someone I can call?"

"My brother's waitin' downstairs."

"Daryl? The brother you assaulted?"

"Only brother I got. My license got suspended so I been ridin' with him."

"Wait a minute. Do you live together?"

"Yep."

I feel stunned for the third time since meeting Merle Dixon. I've got to meet Daryl. He may need an evaluation as well. I don't mean to prejudge but I suspect he's a codependent enabler. There may be a book in this.

A man is slumped in a chair in the lobby, legs stretched out, arms folded across his chest and a cap pulled down over his face. He's wearing laced work boots and a mechanic's outfit of dark blue pants and a lighter blue shirt. I love a man in uniform. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and his arms look strong. His shoulders fill the width of the chair.

I cringe when Merle says, "Wake up, Darylena."

"Shut the fuck up, Merle." Daryl doesn't sound mad, just tired. I'm tired of Merle after an hour. I can't imagine the exhaustion of a lifetime.

Daryl spoke without removing his cap. As he sits up and sees me, he looks embarrassed about swearing. He stands up. He's only an inch or two taller than me but better built. His light brown hair is rumpled, his eyes are blue and he's trying to grow a beard or something. The shoulders and arms are even better close up. I did not expect Merle's brother to be attractive. I definitely didn't expect to be attracted.

Merle says, "This here is my doctor."

"Glenn Chang." I want Daryl to know my first name and I don't want a title between us. I hold out my hand.

"Daryl Dixon," he says in a soft drawl. His hand is warm and firm and I feel a couple of calluses rasp my palm as he pulls away.

"I understand you're driving Merle. I'd like to see him Thursday at four if that's convenient."

"Yeah, I can have him here."

"It would also be helpful to meet with you sometime to discuss the incident. You probably have the best insight into your brother." It's a good idea but I have to admit I only had it after seeing Daryl.

"I don't know. I can take off early to bring Merle but I can't keep leaving work."

"Tomorrow night," Merle says. "I bet the doc will make time after hours."

I'm beginning to warm up to Merle. Daryl stares at him with a lack of brotherly love but says to me, "What time?"

"Seven?"

"Okay." Daryl doesn't sound enthusiastic.

"You should watch Merle tonight for any aftereffects of being tazed."

"What the fuck?"

Apparently the short form of fornicate is Daryl's go-to word for all occasions. I don't mind. He's saying it, I'm thinking it.

Daryl glares at me, immediately defensive on Merle's behalf but then he stops and turns to Merle. "What did you do?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Merle explains.

I say, "You seem to have a lot of misunderstandings."

Daryl laughs. "Yeah, he's the most misunderstood person on the planet."

Daryl's reaction is healthier than I expected. His first instinct was loyalty to his brother but second thoughts prevailed and he questioned Merle's involvement. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. I suppose I shouldn't be thinking of it as a date but I'm already planning to suggest we grab a bite to eat since it will be dinnertime.

Daryl

Glenn Chang headed back to his office and Merle and I went out to the truck.

"What did you do to get tazed?"

"He mighta thought I was gonna hit him," Merle replied without remorse.

Maybe it wasn't Merle's fault. That doctor seemed like kind of a mouthy young guy. "What'd he say?"

"You two got somethin' in common. You both like dicks."

"He's gay?" Daryl had to think about that. He'd been embarrassed that his first thought on seeing Glenn Chang was that he was a good-looking kid with a nice smile. Daryl didn't want to start checking out every man he met.

"Yep. You don't have to thank me now. You can wait until after tomorrow night."

"What?"

"Your date. If it goes good, you better be grateful."

"It's not a date. We're talking about you."

"Well, you'll have lots to talk about then. But it's on you now, Daryl. I introduced you but you gotta do your part. I wouldn't advise putting out on the first date. You're new to this and he's a professional man, not some little bar boy."

"It's not a date!"

Merle shook his head sadly. "You're never gonna get laid if you can't see opportunities right in front of you."

"Stop messing with me, Merle. You did not set me up."

"It's good that you don't think so. Shows I was subtle."

Daryl considered whether Merle was full of crap or if it was possible that he might have nudged events.

"Why would you do that? You beat me up when I told you I was gay."

"I've seen the error of my ways. I'm supportin' my brother's sexual deviation. You might see fit to mention that tomorrow night."

"Well, it makes sense now. You want Glenn to give you a good evaluation."

Merle grinned with satisfaction. "I want Dr. Chang to give me a good evaluation. I guess you want 'Glenn' to give you somethin' else."

Daryl reddened. The first name had slipped out. It didn't mean anything.

Glenn

I don't usually work this late but there are always files to review and notes to update. Daryl is on time. He comes in and looks around my office. It's neutral for a reason, calming colors, nothing too distracting. My desk with bookcases behind it is in the corner. An end table with two chairs at right angles is where most sessions are held. A larger table with four chairs is for conferences. For group therapy the chairs are all moved to the center of the room. A big desk or table between you and a patient is divisive but the small end table is for water and tissues. Those items are needed fairly frequently.

I come around my desk and sit down. Daryl takes the other chair. He's dressed as before. He probably came straight from work, especially if he has to make up time for leaving early to drive Merle.

"I don't want you to feel like you're getting analyzed. I'd just like to know Merle from another perspective and learn about the family dynamic."

Daryl nods but he's wary. He's holding his cap. 'Mooney Motors, Benford, Georgia' is stitched on the front. Must be where he works.

"Merle is 39 and looks quite a bit older than you. Is there a big age difference?"

"Eight years."

That means Daryl is three years older than me.

"What about your parents?"

"Both dead."

Daryl is answering my questions but not volunteering any additional info.

"How did they die?"

"Mama had some woman's trouble and passed when Merle was 16. Daddy drank himself to death seven years later."

So Daryl was 8 and 15 when his parents died.

"Any other siblings?"

"Mama lost a baby between me and Merle."

"Grandparents?"

"All dead when I was too little to remember. Merle knew them."

"Any other family? Aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"None to speak of which means none we speak to. They're not close around here anyway."

"What are your memories of your mother?"

"She was a good mama. Kind of beat down by life, I guess. People say I took after her and Merle is more like Daddy."

"Was there physical violence in the household?"

Daryl is quiet for a moment. He looks down, turning the cap in his hands. "Daddy raised his hand to Mama sometimes. Just a slap. There was no call for it, I know that, but she wasn't hurt bad. He never touched her after she got sick."

"How about you and Merle?"

"We got lickings."

"What was the reason?"

There's a hunted look in Daryl's eyes. He sighs. "There wasn't always a reason, is that what you want to me say? Sometimes we were just there. It was worse after Mama was gone and Daddy drank more. That kinda shit goes on, you know? It happens a lot. We were no different. I was lucky. Merle took the weight mostly. He kept me out of it until he got big enough to stop Daddy."

The way he says it I suddenly wonder if Daddy's liver failed or if Merle stopped him permanently. It would explain a lot but I'm not going there right now.

"Did your mother intervene?"

"Some, but then she got sick and it was just Merle."

I'm not sure Merle is quite as noble as Daryl's recollection but it seems clear that he protected his younger brother as best he could.

"Daryl, thank you for sharing this. I know it's not easy to talk about."

"Well, if it helps Merle. He's not always as bad as he seems. He's okay now with me being gay."

"Did he ask you to tell me that?"

"Yeah, but it might be true. Kind of."

"Why do you think so?"

"He said he introduced us because we're both … you know." Daryl is uncomfortable. "He was joking but that's good when Merle thinks something is funny instead of serious."

"It's almost eight and I haven't eaten yet. If you're hungry, maybe we could have dinner."

"I could eat," Daryl admits.

"Anyplace you'd like to go?"

"Naw, you pick."

I choose a steakhouse because Daryl looks like a red meat man and it's the kind of place where two men can dine together without it being a date. We drive separately, more evidence that it's not a date.

We left the heavy conversation at the office. We talk about our jobs and our lives. I tell him about my family in Michigan and growing up there and moving here for college. Daryl did construction for a few years after high school. He had always worked on family vehicles so he took a course at a trade school to get a certificate and has been at Mooney Motors ever since. I expected Daryl to be nervous but it's easy between us until the check comes and I offer my card. The waiter takes it away. Daryl looks peevish.

"I can pay my way," he says defensively.

"You shouldn't have to. Tonight was my idea."

He still looks sullen.

"If it bothers you, you can pay next time," I suggest casually.

He bites. "You mean, like a date?"

"Why not? Unless you're seeing someone?"

"No. You're not either?"

"Nope."

"But you've had … boyfriends?"

"A few. No one lately. Too busy studying and working the past few years. How about you?"

"I didn't just come out to Merle. Finally admitted it to myself."

"Have you ever …?"

"Yeah, years back. Not around here. I mean nobody Benford knows."

"What about girls?"

"Twice. It was no good. Felt so wrong, that's how I knew."

"Me, too."

It's full dark when we go outside to my car. The parking lot is dimly lit.

"This was fun, Daryl. I'm glad we met."

"Remember, I owe you dinner."

"You don't really. Unless you want to."

"I'll call." He hesitates then leans forward and kisses me. I didn't want to make that first move but I was hoping he would so I'm ready and I kiss him back. It's not an open mouth dueling tongues lip lock but it's a real kiss, brief but not just a peck. I enjoyed it and I think Daryl did, too, even though he mumbles "Night" and quickly walks away to his truck.

"Good night," I call after him.

We wave as we turn in opposite directions from the parking lot.

The next afternoon I ask Merle the same questions I asked Daryl and he basically gives the same story. I expected him to brag about protecting Daryl and perhaps play the martyr but he shrugs it off instead as if he doesn't want to be seen as a good guy.

"You looked out for Daryl when he was younger. Why were you so angry when he told you he was gay?"

Merle looks away. "Always figgered Daryl would get married and have a son, carry on the Dixon name."

"You're straight." I make it a statement not a question.

"Damned straight!" Merle snaps back.

"Do you have trouble performing?"

"Hell, no. And no complaints either." Merle is miffed.

"Are you sterile?"

"Never been tested but don't see why I would be. Never had a disease or injury in them parts."

"Then the obvious question is, why don't you get married and have a son?"

Apparently it wasn't obvious to Merle because he doesn't seem to have seen where I was going. He looks down. "I'm a fuck-up. I know it. Daryl is different. I always thought he was the better bet for bein' a father."

Wow. This is what we in the biz refer to as a breakthrough. Merle is more self-aware than I thought. His motives are misdirected and manifest inappropriately but underneath he has a lot of family feeling.

"I'd like you to think about why you want the Dixon family to continue. Also consider how you might overcome being a fuck-up and carry on the name yourself if it's really important to you. And how sure are you that there isn't a next generation already? Have you ever been drunk and careless?"

All right, that last bit was mean but it was worth it to see the look of shock on Merle's face. And it's a valid question.

Daryl calls later. He probably waited to ask Merle how the session went. Would I have heard from him if I had to use the Taser again?

Saturday night we go to another restaurant, nice but not too fancy. Two doors down is a bar with pool tables so afterward we drink beer and play a couple of games. Daryl is better than me but I make enough decent shots that I don't shame myself.

Daryl had picked me up in his truck which is an older model but well-cared for; not surprising considering his occupation. When he drops me off we make out for awhile. Pretty soon the intensity means we should move indoors or stop. I invite him in and he looks tempted but refuses. That's probably wise. It feels like we skipped any awkwardness and fast forwarded through the usual relationship development. That's amazing but a little scary. Pausing the action is a good idea.

We've already reached the point of calling each other every day. The next weekend we go to a movie and do that straight guy thing where you leave an empty seat between you. After the lights go down, I get up and move next to him. A few minutes later he puts his arm along the back of the seat, touching my shoulders.

This time Daryl doesn't refuse when I invite him in.

Sex with Daryl is a revelation of Daryl himself and the two of us together. Honestly, I've never had it so good. Because Daryl came out recently and isn't open emotionally, I expected him to be passive physically at first. Au contraire. Daryl is comfortable with his body and he's a naturally sexual person. You might think sex is instinctive and natural for everyone but you'd be wrong. For many people it's an acquired skill.

Ever since we shook hands when we met I've been imagining Daryl's hand on other parts of my body. Reality is not a disappointment. It's like mini shocks from a Taser. I'm quivering. We don't do anal. Everything but. Or should that be everything except butt? Neither of us wanted it our first time together. We both knew there would be other opportunities. I'm not shy about expressing my needs and I aim to please my partner. I like it a little rough and Daryl is a good match – forceful but not brutal.

I wake up stretched out on my stomach, head turned to Daryl still asleep beside me. His messy hair makes him look boyish in spite of the scruffy chin. His mouth is open slightly but he's not snoring or drooling. I wouldn't care if he was. I'm past the point of judging things like that. I'm well on my way to accepting family baggage such as the oversize suitcase named Merle.

Daryl is lying on his right side with one arm under the pillow and the other resting along the line of his body. I turn onto my right side and scoot close enough to feel his warmth against my back. He makes an indeterminate sound like "Mmph" and moves closer, his left arm covering my hip. His knees bend a little and his legs draw up and we're spooned. His response is a good sign even though he's still asleep. There's an affectionate nature beneath his caution.

I have a feeling there are decisions ahead. Will we live together? Not right away but I'm sure the time will come when we won't want to be apart. His place or mine? Daryl and Merle share a small house and three would be a crowd. My condo is in Atlanta and Daryl isn't a city boy. It might be nice to find a place of our own between here and Benford. The commute would only be about half an hour each. I should stop planning our life and let Daryl contribute.

But when he wakes up Daryl has something else on his mind. He licks the back of my neck while his hand travels from my hip to my cock, squeezing and stroking. His erection is big and solid against my ass. I want to get my hands on him but the angle is awkward so I turn over. We're facing each other now and our hands and mouths can make contact. Our third time is even better than the first two because we know what to expect. We drift back to sleep after.

The second time he wakes up, his brother is on Daryl's mind: "I think Merle might have joined a 12-step program. Isn't one of them making amends? He's been calling every girl he ever slept with. Why would he do that except to apologize for how he treated them?"

Even with Daryl I won't compromise doctor-patient confidentiality. So I don't tell him Merle is checking for possible progeny.


	4. Education

**Education**

Glenn

The place is spotless, dinner is ready, and I'm waiting for my Dixon man.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," he singsongs as he opens the door and glances around. "Looks good and smells even better."

"Your dinner is in the oven and there's salad in the fridge. I'm taking off now."

"That's right, your class starts tonight. See you later."

On the drive to Atlanta I wonder how I ended up living in a trailer with Merle Dixon instead of with Daryl in the house up the road.

I know how it happened, of course, but I still can't quite believe it.

Daryl and I met 16 months ago in a dimly lit parking lot. I was TA for a professor at the University where I was almost qualified for my teaching certificate. I had worked late grading papers and when I reached my car the rear driver's side tire was flat. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but the day before I'd sprained my left arm and it was in a sling. It still hurt like a bitch.

I didn't have Triple A or roadside assistance on my car insurance. I tried to think who to call but my friends had plans and I hated to interrupt. The lot was deserted and there was little traffic. A truck pulled in. It looked like the same one that drove by a couple of minutes before. A man got out wearing work pants and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked a little rough but for some reason I didn't feel like he was going to beat me up and steal my wallet.

"Need some help?" he asked gruffly.

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose. I'll call someone."

"I'm here now. Only take a few minutes. Keys?" He held out his hand.

He opened the trunk, removed the jack and spare and efficiently went to work.

"Thanks," I said sincerely. "This is really nice of you. A Good Samaritan. Did you drive by before?"

"Yeah, saw you looking down at something and you've got that sling."

I explained the sprained arm then introduced myself: "I'm Glenn Chang."

"Daryl Dixon." He tossed the flat tire into the trunk and packed away the jack. I drive a Mini Cooper and Daryl Dixon looked capable of lifting the car itself. "You're good to go."

"Thanks again." I reached in my pocket. "Let me give you something for your time."

"No!" He sounded almost angry. He softened it by adding, "It was no trouble."

"Maybe I can buy you a drink. It doesn't have to be now. I've already interrupted your evening."

"I was on my way to Frosty's. Just gonna have a beer before heading home. Join me if you want to."

"I'm buying."

Frosty's was a bar a few blocks away. I'd been there a couple of times but it wasn't a regular hangout. The lighting wasn't much brighter than the parking lot but we both liked what it revealed.

I learned that Daryl and his brother had a small business offering guided fishing and hunting trips, anything from a few hours to 10 days. They lived together in the small house they grew up in near Benford. Their parents were both gone. I told Daryl mine were alive and well but living in Michigan where I grew up. There are ways to ask and answer some questions without using the usual words. Within an hour we knew we were both gay and interested.

We ended up closing Frosty's down.

Daryl and I liked each other right away. Things seemed to happen by threes: we kissed three days later, slept together three weeks later, said we loved each other three months after that.

I was about to sign a contract to teach history in Atlanta that fall when old lady Ruskin had a stroke. That's what Daryl called her; I never met her. She was 60 – not all that old – but she had taught history to three generations in Benford, including the Dixon boys. The next generation would be learning from me instead.

So I left Atlanta and moved in with Daryl. Merle bought a trailer and relocated up the road. I felt bad displacing him but it turned out Merle was going anyway. A queer brother in the house cramped his style when he had overnight company. I suggested Daryl and I get our own place and leave the house for Merle but he refused. He could afford a double wide but was getting only a single because he didn't want so much space that his companions might start feeling at home.

Merle is foul-mouthed and a good deal of what he says is despicable so I was surprised to find him congenial, although he never misses an opportunity to make a joke at our expense.

Both Dixons hunt and fish but Merle tends to take the lead on fishing trips and Daryl heads up the hunts. Daryl and I have gone fishing a few times but we don't catch much. As Merle puts it, "When Daryl goes fishin', the only one that don't get away is Glenn."

We lived happily together for a year. That ended two days ago when Merle and Daryl returned from fishing with four men. I'm not always around when they get back but Saturday night I was so I helped them unload.

"This is Glenn, a friend of ours," Daryl said.

The men left. Merle could tell a fight was brewing but he couldn't resist adding to the tension.

"Well, brother, friend," he said, nodding to each of us, "I'm heading home to clean up. Y'all have a nice evening."

"Have a good day?" Daryl asked, hoping to defuse the situation.

"Until 10 minutes ago," I said coldly.

"Don't make this a big deal."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I call you on your bullshit? What are 'friends' for?"

"I didn't mean anything by that."

"Because I don't mean anything to you. You can't even acknowledge our relationship."

"Everyone around here knows our relationship. It's nobody else's business."

"I introduce you to people as my partner but you've never introduced me to anyone as your partner."

"C'mon, I'm hot and tired and dirty. I need a shower. You could join me."

I did. I thought Daryl would apologize after he'd had time to think. I know it's hard for him to be open and I don't expect him to explain he's gay to all his customers but he's had other opportunities with casual acquaintances and he's never said the words.

Daryl fucked me raw the way he knows I like it sometimes but he never said anything about introductions. The next morning I brought it up again and Daryl, who thought he fixed everything with great sex, got defensive and wouldn't back down. I went to Merle's trailer.

"Can I stay here?"

"You know where the spare room is but I don't think there's clean sheets."

"I'll do laundry and clean the place for you."

"You were right to leave my brother," Merle said. "Daryl don't appreciate you. I'll be proud to introduce you properly. As my houseboy."

That's how I ended up with Merle. He thinks it's hilarious that he's living with his brother's significant other while Daryl fumes alone. And now I'm on my way to a small community center on the outskirts of Atlanta to guide four people through a study course for their GED examinations. We'll meet three nights a week for 10 weeks. It's my first time teaching for GED so they gave me a small class to start.

Beth and Jimmy are both 18 and would have graduated a month ago but just before senior year they took off together. Not eloping, they just wanted to have an adventure. Crazy kids. Now they want to catch up so they can go to college this fall.

Carol got pregnant and left school to marry Ed. Daughter Sophia is 12. Ed got laid off and Carol wants to work but needs a GED to get anything decent.

Randall dropped out because he had better things to do with his time but four years later he has nothing to do. His uncle will give him a job if he gets his GED.

Time drags between classes. Merle and I get along but I can't stay here forever. I don't even want to stay here much longer. I thought it would be over by now. Daryl and I have had a few arguments but not like this. It's been two weeks and I should go back but something won't let me give in.

Tonight Randall arrives 10 minutes late, looking sick and feverish. I tell him to go home or better still, see a doctor. He refuses, saying he's just tired although he admits he might be coming down with something. When I suggest that no one else wants to get it, he moves to the far side of the room away from everyone, muttering that he isn't even coughing. I continue the class. It's commendable that he wants to stay but students are allowed to miss a few sessions as long as they make up the work.

* * *

Randall tried to pay attention but his concentration was skipping. It was that weirdo this morning that grabbed his arm and scratched him. Randall hadn't thought much about it but the scratch must be infected. He didn't have insurance but he'd stop at the ER after class. They had to treat him even if he couldn't pay. He'd get an antibiotic and maybe score something for pain. Meanwhile, he was serious about sticking out this class. He needed that job from his uncle. But his eyes were tired. Maybe if he closed them for a minute ...

* * *

After Glenn left for Atlanta, Merle went to the house.

"Daryl, you got to make this right. It was your doing and you know it and it's gone on too long. I'm eatin' salad and fruit for fuck's sake."

Daryl nodded. "I'm gonna meet him after class tonight."

Daryl was antsy and got to Atlanta early but he didn't mind waiting an hour. On the drive in his music station kept getting interrupted with news about some outbreak. He hadn't paid much attention at first but now a special report had taken over the programming so he listened.

* * *

It was Carol who called Glenn's attention when Randall's head dropped to his arms folded on the tabletop.

Glenn said, "Let's let him sleep. He probably needs the rest. If he's not better when class is over, I'll drive him to the emergency room."

Half an hour later Glenn thought he'd better check on Randall. What if he was unconscious instead of sleeping? Glenn approached quietly, whispering Randall's name. There was no response. Glenn shook his shoulder but Randall didn't wake up. Feeling frantic, Glenn put a finger to Randall's neck and couldn't find a pulse.

"Oh shit, I think he's dead."

Glenn was appalled by his negligence. He lowered Randall to the floor and yelled for someone to call 911. Glenn pumped Randall's chest. Carol knelt to help him. Beth punched at her cell phone and reported she couldn't get service. Jimmy tried his phone and said all circuits were busy.

Suddenly Randall moaned and moved.

"Thank, God," Glenn said. "Randall, we're going to the ER right now."

He was about to ask the others to help him carry when Randall growled and lunged for Glenn who jumped back instinctively. Randall's eyes looked opaque, unseeing. He turned toward Carol who scrambled out of the way.

"Randall, lay quiet," Glenn said but Randall didn't seem to hear. His arms were flailing and he was starting to get up.

"What's wrong with him?" Carol asked. "Is it drugs? PCP?"

"It might be rabies," Jimmy said. "Don't let him get hold of you."

Glenn and Carol were on their feet but so was Randall and he was between them and the door. They tried to run past him but he cut them off. Jimmy and Beth were on the other side of the room near the door. They went into the hall.

"Get help," Glenn ordered.

"Keep trying to call," Jimmy told Beth. He ran out of the building.

Beth was still having no luck with her cell phone. Randall had cornered Carol and Glenn so she shouted and Randall turned toward her. When he got close to the door she shut it. He didn't seem able to open it and soon lost interest in favor of his cornered prey. When he got close to them Beth tried shouting again but Randall wasn't fooled a second time. At least Glenn and Carol had been able to turn tables on their sides to form a barricade while he was distracted.

Daryl was beginning to be disturbed by the news report when a young man came running out of the building. He opened the back of an SUV, grabbed a shotgun and shells and loaded as he ran back in.

Jimmy had hunted all his life. He had put down a dog and a horse that had been childhood companions, but he'd never aimed at a human even in jest. He would wing Randall and they'd get him to a hospital.

Beth was in the hall, looking through the window in the door to the other side of the room where Glenn and Carol were trapped. Jimmy opened the door and yelled. Randall turned in search of more accessible prey. As he crossed the room, Jimmy aimed carefully and hit Randall's right shoulder. Randall jerked but didn't stop. Jimmy's second shot took Randall in the left thigh. Randall stumbled but kept coming, dragging his leg, and then he was on Jimmy. Jimmy went down and Randall fell on top of him, snapping at his face.

There was a whistling sound and an arrow quivered from Randall's belly. Beth was huddled in terror. She looked up to see a stranger with a crossbow looking with disbelief at the scene before him.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl said as Randall ignored the arrow.

He was loading again as Randall found the soft meat where neck joins shoulder. He bit and pulled away chunks of flesh. Blood spurted and Jimmy's scream was cut off. Daryl put an arrow into Randall's head and this time Randall collapsed across Jimmy as if he was a puppet with the strings cut. Daryl went to check Jimmy.

"Is he …" Beth started to ask.

"Sorry, but he's gone," Daryl said gently.

"Daryl!" Glenn and an older woman were in the doorway.

"You okay?" Daryl asked. "He didn't hurt you?"

"We're fine. Well, not fine but not hurt. Randall was sick. We thought he was sleeping but he was dead. And then he wasn't. What's going on?"

"It's on the news. Some new virus. I don't know much more. I think everybody better get the hell home and stay inside."

Daryl picked up the shotgun and they all moved to the entrance. A yellow car was idling at the curb. Ed Peletier got out. Carol ran to him. He held her away from him and looked to the men. "What's wrong?"

They explained. Ed had heard something about it but not paid much attention. He wanted to see for himself. He started inside. Carol had no desire to take a second look but Sophia opened her door. Ed whipped around and pointed at her. "You stay in the car." He pointed at his wife. "You get in the car." They obeyed.

Glenn remained outside as well, holding a sobbing Beth. Daryl and Ed returned, Ed looking shaken. He got in the car and drove off.

"Beth can't drive like this," Glenn said. "I'm going to take her home."

"I'll follow you. We can come back for your car tomorrow."

Beth was almost catatonic but she managed to direct Glenn to a big farmhouse on a handsome spread of land about 10 miles from Atlanta. An older man and a girl a few years older than Beth were waiting.

"My father and sister," Beth choked out.

"Hershel Greene," the man said. "And this is Maggie." Maggie took Beth from Glenn as he told briefly what had happened.

Hershel sighed heavily. "We'll let Jimmy's family know. They live nearby. You should get home now. Be safe."

After they left the Greene farm, Daryl reached over and tugged Glenn along the seat next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "That's why I was waiting for you. To say that and ask you to come home. Will you?"

"Yes," Glenn replied. "And I'm sorry, too."

"What for? You were right."

"But if I hadn't left we would have worked it out a lot sooner. I love you."

Daryl's arm tightened. "Love you, too, kid. This has been the longest month of my life."

"It's been two weeks."

"See what I mean?"

Glenn nuzzled Daryl's neck. When he turned his head, Glenn touched the tip of his tongue to the mole above Daryl's lip. Daryl let the truck coast to a stop in the middle of the road.

"If you don't stop that shit I'm not gonna make it home. But I'm pretty sure you won't stop."

"It's been two weeks, Daryl, and something very bad just happened. Do you want to wait?"

Daryl pulled into a lane leading to a field. He fumbled in the glove compartment for a bottle of slick then opened his door and got out, pulling Glenn over until his legs dangled out the door. They each opened their own pants, fingers clumsy with the need for speed. Daryl jerked Glenn's jeans down his legs, flipped him over and lubed his fingers. Glenn hadn't said a word but his breathing quickened. He moaned with relief when Daryl inserted a finger. A second finger followed and Glenn started to wiggle.

"Hold still," Daryl growled. His fingers stretched Glenn and he upended the bottle to let the lube dribble directly in. He wiped his fingers on his raging hard-on and eased in quick but careful. He backed up a step, moving Glenn's hips with him so Glenn was bent over the seat at the waist instead of lying on it. It was a perfect position for penetration and the angle was just right to reach the sweet spot. Daryl found a rhythm that let him push in hard and pull out with a slow drag across the gland that left Glenn gasping.

A minute later Daryl collapsed. Glenn could feel Daryl's heart pounding against his back; Daryl felt Glenn's pulse against his neck.

"You come?" Daryl asked.

"No, but that prostate thing was fantastic. It's always feels good but I've never had a prostate orgasm before."

"Thought you might be epileptic the way you were shaking. Your dick need any attention?"

"It's mashed flat. I'll probably be able to see the seat design on it."

Daryl stood up so Glenn could turn over.

"Looks fat and sassy to me." Daryl swiped his tongue around the tip. "Tasty, too." He lowered his mouth down the shaft and weighed the soft sac of Glenn's balls in the palm of one hand. Glenn's hands went to Daryl's head to hold him to Glenn's other head.

When they got home they found Merle on the sofa reading 'Soldier of Fortune' magazine. Merle fantasized about being a mercenary. It was an occupation where his dishonorable discharge from the Army was a plus not a minus, but he had never pursued it and never would.

"You're back late. Stop at the hourly rate motel?"

"We did it in the truck," Daryl said.

Merle nodded. "Cheaper." He looked at Glenn. "Guess you're back where you belong. This place ain't been cleaned decent since you left. What's for supper?"

Glenn grinned and then remembered. "Don't you know what's going on? Have you listened to the news?"

"That virus thing? Another scam hatched by Big Pharmaceutical. In a few days they'll have everybody lining up for a vaccination. Look what happened with them flu shots."

"Not this time," Daryl said. "I wouldn't be surprised if drug companies started it but they lost control. If there's a shot to stop it, I'd like a dose and be glad to pay. I've seen it, Merle. A dead kid trying to eat a live one. He got shot in the arm and leg and it didn't stop him. I put an arrow in his gut and he kept going. Finally went down with a bolt to the brain."

Merle frowned. He would dismiss such talk from anyone else but he believed his brother. "Is this somethin' biblical like Judgment Day? The Apocalypse finally arrived?"

"The zombie apocalypse maybe," Glenn replied.

The men watched the news as they ate. In just a few hours panic had spread to the extent that the National Guard was being called out. They figured the situation would be under control in a few days, although Merle felt his former brethren in the Army might have to be mobilized to get a handle on it.

Merle tramped back to his trailer, pleased to be on his own again. He liked Glenn but two weeks of evenings spent with him mooning over Daryl and days with Daryl moping about Glenn was God's aplenty. And what was it about a homo in the house to make a red-blooded American man feel guilty about admiring young ladies in artful poses? Merle mostly downloaded porn now but he had a choice collection of magazines that he stashed out of sight for the duration of Glenn's visit. Yep, everybody would be happier now that the course of true love was running smooth again.

Everyone had expected Merle to go postal when his brother crawled out of the closet but blood was blood and Daryl was the only family Merle had. Besides, there were advantages. Merle loved his brother and his ego was healthy enough to consider himself the better man in most respects but women always went for Daryl. He was finer featured than Merle and better behaved. But the fact that he wanted to stick his dick in men instead of them was a show-stopper. Nope, Merle wasn't sorry Daryl was out of the running.

The redneck population had taken to a gay Asian teacher better than expected. Glenn wasn't big enough to be seen as a predator so their sons were safe and most parents trusted Glenn with their daughters more than they would with the girls' hormonal male classmates. He was safe from gay bashing as well. No one wanted to face the Dixons if harm came to him. Everybody liked Glenn anyway. He was a favorite teacher with students and popular with the rest of the faculty.

Women were curious about the homosexual thing but they didn't like to bring it up with the objects of interest so why not ask the brother? Merle knew quite a bit and what he didn't know he was happy to invent. The town in general gave the boys no grief. They might be Godless gays but they were Benford's Godless gays. In some perverse way folks were even proud to be seen as tolerant enough to accept queers in the community.

Daryl had never been easy around women or any people really. He didn't learn to flirt until Glenn came along. He only flirted with Glenn but at least he could talk to everybody else without stuttering or thinking he was saying something stupid. Merle had thought his job was making a man out of Daryl. Hell of a thing when another man made your brother a better man.

The next day things were worse instead of better and the trend continued. After a few days Merle moved back to the house so he wouldn't get trapped in the trailer. Best to keep everybody together at a time like this. Cell phones were useless. Land lines lasted longer. The power failed, both electricity and gas. The Dixons had a generator but it required diesel to run and a week later they were out and there was no more locally. No gasoline either and the small town had been looted. It was high summer in Georgia and their well was drying up. Without the pump to bring water from deep below, they couldn't stay. The rivers they fished from were farther away. They decided to head for the quarry near Atlanta where there would be water and probably other survivors.

They packed the truck bed with Merle's motorcycle, two tents and other camping equipment. They had gone back to Atlanta for Glenn's car before things got really bad so they were taking the Mini Cooper, too. They each had a duffle with clothes and they took all weapons and ammunition. Glenn stuffed a backpack with food and water and brought along his baseball bat.

A big RV was parked at the quarry along with several other vehicles including a familiar yellow car. Carol was delighted to see them and called everyone to come and be introduced.

"I'm Merle Dixon," Merle said.

"Glenn Chang," Glenn said. "And this is …" He turned to Daryl.

"His partner, Daryl Dixon," Daryl said for the first time in public. "Merle is my brother and Glenn and I are together," he added, to make the relationships clear.

The awkward silence lasted only a second or two. An older man stepped forward. "Dale Horvath," he said with a smile. "Glad to have you with us. We've got a good group here. I think we'll all be fine."

Dale always was an optimist.


	5. Transformation

A/N: I hadn't listened to 'Amarillo by Morning' for years but when I heard it recently I knew Daryl would be a great cowboy.

**Transformation**

Daryl

It flashed through his mind as he was thrown that the angle was wrong but there was no time to twist and roll before he landed. He knew he was hurt bad before the pain started. He lay there for a moment, winded, not feeling anything but the need to breathe. Then he felt too much, including his leg bent under him in a direction legs don't bend naturally. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of the rodeo clowns drawing the bull's attention. Then the medics were there with a stretcher. They put a brace on his neck. He lost consciousness when they straightened his leg.

He came to in time for paperwork at the hospital. A woman read the consent for medical care. It wasn't the first or fourth time Daryl had heard it. It seemed to him that the words made the doctor into James Bond with a license to kill. The hospital was more like Mission Impossible. They would be disavowing all knowledge if anything went wrong. Still, Daryl had no problem with the actual care. Medical people had always put him back together good as new, although they warned him the beating he was giving his body would bite back in old age.

His wrist hurt as he scribbled his name. "How bad is it?"

"Doctor will be with you in a moment," the woman with the folder of papers said. "Is there someone we can call for you?"

"No." Daryl didn't have to think about it. Everybody that might be interested had seen it happen.

The doctor was an orthopedic surgeon. "Your left shoulder was dislocated. That was taken care of while you were out which is the best time anyway. Your left leg is very broken. That's all I know right now. You'll be taken to imaging and probably directly to surgery depending on what the pictures show."

Daryl woke up woozy and sore but with no real pain. Live better pharmaceutically. A woman took his vitals and gave him water. She said it was two in the morning and he was doing fine and the doctor would talk to him at morning rounds. Daryl drifted off.

The surgeon was proud of the job he did on Daryl's leg. Daryl was glad he would walk without a limp. Probably. Eventually. The dislocated shoulder would need to be immobilized for a few weeks because it was the second time it happened and it needed more time to heal. There was a hairline fracture of his right wrist and it hurt to breathe deep but his ribs were bruised not broken.

Daryl started to realize how restricted his life was going to be. "If I can't even get on crutches for a month and I can't use either arm for two weeks, how do I feed and dress myself?" Daryl didn't ask about shitting and pissing. He was sure a bedpan and bottle would be involved and he didn't want to talk about that.

"You'll be in bed so dressing won't be an issue. You'll need help for everything else. And then you'll need rehab. No movement for a month means a lot of work to get back in shape plus therapy for the leg."

"My insurance won't cover all that. I got catastrophic coverage but the deductible will take a lot of my savings." Daryl had never been hurt this bad all at once and the prices hadn't gone down since the last time. He was getting worried.

"I know a guy," the surgeon said. "He's a physical therapist but he can also do home care and he doesn't mind living in long-term. It still won't be cheap but you'll save some money and it will be convenient for both of you. If you're interested I'll have out-patient make the arrangements."

Daryl nodded.

"His name is Glenn Chang. He'll call you."

"He's Chinese?" Daryl stopped himself from saying 'Chink.'

"Korean, actually. Is that a problem?"

"Nope." It was true. Daryl wasn't prejudiced but he was a product of his upbringing. He knew the words he grew up with sounded bad. He thought them sometimes but didn't say them.

As the day passed Daryl was thankful this happened on one of his rare rides in Georgia instead of halfway across the country. It would have cost plenty to ship his ass back here, or maybe he would've had to stay in some rehab center or rented a place. He was gone a lot on the rodeo circuit but home was near Atlanta.

Glenn Chang called that evening. A nurse held the phone to Daryl's ear. There was no discernible accent. Daryl had been afraid he might be an immigrant and they would have trouble communicating. The next day Glenn came to his room. He was in burgundy scrubs. He looked like a kid but he was polite and professional and by now Daryl knew he was 28. They were tentative with each other but it seemed clear that they would get along so Daryl handed over his keys. Glenn would get the Dixon place ready and Daryl would be transported by ambulance the next day.

Daryl was placed in the larger bedroom. It was Merle's but Merle was away in the Army. Glenn would use the smaller bedroom that was usually Daryl's.

Glenn

I'm taking care of a cowboy! Daryl Dixon is the most interesting person I've ever met and I don't even know that much about him yet. He's quiet and it seems natural rather than a result of his injuries. He looks like the type to watch and listen more than he talks.

Even in casts and bandages Daryl is built. His shoulders are broad and his arms are strong from holding onto a ton of bucking beef with horns and hooves. His brown hair is lightened by the sun and there are crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes. I have to stop myself from licking my lips when I look at him. Why are all the good ones taken or straight? He doesn't seem to have a girlfriend but he's probably fucking cowgirls and rodeo groupies. There's a Southeast circuit but Daryl rides the Texas one because it's hardcore. Well, they're all hardcore but Texas is the toughest. I've seen pictures of him in jeans, boots, western shirt and the requisite hat. I've also seen him naked. It's all good.

Daryl

He hadn't been capable of taking in much when he met Glenn at the hospital but at home he noticed the kid was nice looking with brown eyes and that straight shiny black hair Asians seem to have. He looked lean but he must have the muscle to move patients around.

Personal care was as humiliating as Daryl expected but he was in other discomfort as pain meds were adjusted. The second day was smoother and after that it didn't seem worth it to get embarrassed when Glenn was practical about the process. He had a good bedside manner.

There was more embarrassment in store when Daryl was hard the third morning. Glenn acted like nothing was different but Daryl felt like he should apologize. When he muttered "Sorry about that," Glenn just said it was normal and meant he was recovering. Daryl's dick softened after he peed but then he thought about the two weeks until he could use his hands again. He was almost always hard when he woke up but he was still on pain pills. Maybe that would keep him from getting horny.

It didn't. He was hard again the next day and it didn't go away. His left arm was strapped to his chest to keep weight off his shoulder. His right wrist was in a cast that extended halfway up his forearm and down most of his hand. His fingers were useless. He tried rubbing with the cast but the alignment was off and he couldn't move his left leg to compensate. He was anxious every time Glenn's gloved hand touched his dick which happened several times a day.

That night after Daryl used the urinal Glenn turned off the lights but instead of saying good night and leaving the room he asked quietly, "Do you want some help?"

Daryl knew what he was offering. "Is that part of the service?"

"I could lose my job just for suggesting it."

"But you don't think I'll report you?"

Glenn shrugged. "You don't seem like the type. I'm a guy – I know what it feels like. It's your choice."

"Well, I can't stay like this."

"There is an alternative," Glenn said. "Seeking help for an erection lasting longer than four hours involves draining blood from the area with a needle."

Daryl winced. "So how would the other way work?"

Glenn reached for the gloves. "You could try the advice Victorian mothers gave their daughters: Close your eyes and think of England."

Daryl smiled.

"Or think of whatever you usually think of when you do this yourself."

Daryl thought of Glenn's hands on him and wished he wasn't wearing gloves. He tried to be quiet but he was afraid it was pretty obvious that he'd enjoyed it more than he should have.

"I'm not gay," Daryl said afterwards.

"I know," Glenn said.

"It was just … it's been awhile …"

"And it felt good. I understand. Friction is friction no matter who or what is doing the rubbing."

Glenn

I did something illegal and unethical but it didn't feel wrong and I don't regret it. It needed to be done and I'm not saying that to justify it. Daryl was injured almost a week ago but other than that he's a normal healthy 36 year old male and the inevitable situation arose. Literally. So I gave my client a hand job. I maintained professional behavior by wearing disposable gloves although I would have been happy to leave them off. I also would have been happy if it lasted longer. I thought the pain meds would slow Daryl down but it was over too soon. Not quick like premature ejaculation, he just needed release. He tried not to make any noise and afterwards he told me he wasn't gay.

I've never done that before. Never even considered it. Of course I've never had a client like Daryl Dixon.

Daryl

The next afternoon Daryl woke from a nap to a familiar sound. For a moment he thought he was back at the rodeo. But the song wasn't blaring through the speakers or being performed by a musical guest. Simple guitar chords came faintly through the closed bedroom door.

"Hey," Daryl called out. The music stopped and Glenn appeared.

"Was that you playing?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," Glenn said. "It won't happen again."

"You didn't wake me, I was done sleeping. You know that's like the national anthem of rodeos?"

"Are you sick of hearing it?"

"Naw, it's a good song."

"Is it true? The lyrics, I mean."

"The good ones are always true."

"Well, you certainly broke your leg."

"But not in Santa Fe."

"Did they take your saddle in Houston?"

"Nope, I sold it in Tulsa after some bad luck. Bull riding is bareback anyway."

"Lose a wife and a girlfriend along the way?" Glenn asked.

"Never been married. And I don't have a girlfriend."

"I wondered. I thought she might have to stay on the circuit but no one has called either. What about rodeo groupies? Do you have those?"

"They're around but I haven't messed with them for years."

Glenn gave Daryl a hand again four days later. It was better than the first time and Daryl had more trouble keeping quiet. Afterwards he said half jokingly, "Maybe I am gay."

"A couple of hand jobs in these circumstances don't make a straight man gay."

"How do you know?"

"I'm gay."

Daryl felt like he already knew that or at least had suspected it. Now that it was out in the open he didn't know what to say.

"I didn't offer because I'm gay," Glenn said. "But I hope it isn't weird for you knowing that I enjoyed it more than you did."

"You didn't. Enjoy it more, I mean."

Glenn thought that over. "Is that why you keep mentioning being gay? You worried that you are?"

"I don't know."

"You've been with girls?"

"A few times when I was younger. The groupies, remember? It wasn't so good."

"What about guys? Have you ever …?"

"A couple of times. It was better than girls but I didn't like what that meant."

"I don't know what to say, Daryl. I'm sorry if I made it worse for you."

"You didn't. I never had this much time to think about it. I been hurt before but not bedridden."

"I wasn't going to bring this up until we begin rehab but if you need something else to think about you might consider what else you want to do in life. If you get hurt this badly again you could end up in a wheelchair."

"Bull riding is all I can do."

"I doubt that."

"It's all I want to do."

"But you know you can't do it forever. It's the same with all sports."

"I never made a fall-back plan."

"Why is that? If you've really never thought about the future, about getting older, maybe there's a connection to other issues."

Daryl had always dismissed such stuff as psychobabble but Glenn was smart and Daryl liked and respected him so he thought about it seriously and started to realize that his profession might have been a distraction. He rode bulls for a living. It kept him from thinking too much about anything else happening between his legs. And now that he was coming to grips with his sexual orientation, he'd gone and fallen for his caregiver. It didn't feel like a cliché, though. It felt real. Getting hurt had never been good luck before. But what if Glenn didn't feel the same? All his patients probably got attached to him. How could they help it?

Glenn

In two days Daryl will have a hand free to help himself but tonight he's hard again and this is my last chance.

"My hands are tired," I tell him. "I'll use my mouth instead."

I've been fantasizing about it since the first time I made Daryl come. Reality was even better. But the memories will have to last a long time because we'll start rehab soon and six to eight weeks after that Daryl won't need me anymore.

Daryl's voice interrupts my melancholy thoughts.

"I can use my hands in a few days. I could return the favor. If you want."

Oh god yes I want. It would be nice to come at the same time instead of me ten minutes after Daryl, alone in my room.

Eventually we talk about being together. All along we were both thinking the same thing but were afraid it wasn't mutual. I wasn't sure Daryl could accept being gay and he thought he was a patient I would leave behind for my next client. We got it sorted out.

Daryl isn't quiet in bed anymore and neither am I. He says it's the first time sex is fun and satisfying. He never thought he was good and was always afraid he'd disappoint his partner. I wish we'd met 10 years ago but better late than never. It scares me to think we might have missed each other but Daryl says as often as he got hurt, it was bound to happen.

Daryl has been thinking about his future as well as ours: "I like the rodeo life. Merle and I own the land around this house. I could raise bulls instead of ride them."

"It's a great idea. You could call it Dixon Stud," I suggest.

"No," Daryl says firmly.

"Why not? Truth in advertising for you and the bulls."

Later I ask Daryl to tell me about his brother.

"Merle's in the Army." Daryl hesitates. "Actually he's in military prison at Fort Knox. He'll get a bad conduct discharge when his sentence is up."

"What did he do?"

"Assaulted his commanding officer."

"Were there extenuating circumstances?"

"He was tweaked out at the time."

"That doesn't sound like it would help his case."

"It didn't. Merle tends to get in trouble. He's eight years older than me and he quit school to work when our folks died. He pretty much raised me. He lost his job about the time I went on the circuit so he joined the Army. I'm not making excuses for him but he's still my brother."

"Maybe you can raise bulls together when he gets out."

"You wouldn't mind him being around?" Daryl asks.

"Of course not. A better question is, will he mind me being around? I assume you haven't told him about us yet."

"Oh, fuck."

Daryl

He couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him that he would have to tell his brother he was gay. Maybe the pain meds had made him slow.

Merle called to let Daryl know he'd be getting out in a month. There would be a discharge hearing and then he'd come home.

"I got some news for you," Daryl said.

"You healin' up okay?" Merle asked.

"Yeah, it's not that. I'm … uh … involved with my physical therapist."

Merle cackled. "Takin' care of all your needs, huh?" His laughter trailed off. "I thought Glenn was a boy's name."

"It is."

The silence stretched.

"Jesus Christ all fucking mighty," Merle said. "Are you tryin' to tell me you're a …" Merle was unable to squeeze the word out.

"Queer? Yeah."

"You did this on purpose! You timed it so I couldn't say much since the Army is kicking me out."

"If I thought that would shut you up about my sex life, I would have planned it that way. But I didn't figure your problems would stop you from giving me grief."

"Aw, shit. Is this for real?"

"Yeah. Do I still have a brother?"

"I guess. And I got a sister."

Daryl laughed. "You're taking it better than I expected. Maybe you weren't so surprised?"

Merle grunted. "Maybe not. I mighta wondered once or twice years back but nothin' happened and you never said anything so I was happy to be wrong."

"You were right after all."

"I ain't all that happy about it, though. You gonna live together?"

"Yes, but this is your home, too."

"I'm not livin' with homos. There's no walls thick enough to stifle my imagination. I'll fix up Granddaddy's hunting shack."

"It's two rooms and an outhouse."

"That's all I need."

"It's small. It's barely livable."

"It's bigger and cozier than the cell I'm currently occupying."

"Glenn will buy your half of the house. You can put in a bathroom." Daryl paused. "I been thinking what to do when I can't ride anymore. How about we go into business together breeding bulls?"

"Well, we both got a good eye for cattle. That could work. Hey, we could call it Dixon Stud."

Daryl sighed. Merle didn't know it yet but he and Glenn were going to get along fine.

There was one more thing to discuss with Glenn.

"Cowboys been comin' out of the closet since 'Brokeback Mountain' but I'm not there yet," Daryl said apologetically.

"It's all right."

"You don't mind if people think I'm straight?"

"Women won't know they don't have a chance with you and men won't know they do have a chance."

"You're the only one has a chance with me."

"See why I don't mind? Although they'll start to wonder why I'm still around. How much PT do you need when you're retired?"

"I'm not retired."

"Retired from bull riding I meant."

"I'm not retired from anything."

"You're not riding bulls anymore!"

"Yes, I am."

"Daryl, you can't. It's too big a risk." Glenn sounded anguished.

"I know I can't go much longer but I got some rides left in me."

"Is it really worth it? You haven't ridden for months."

"That's why I have to. You've heard about getting back on after a fall."

"That's a horse not a bull."

"I ride bulls not broncs."

Glenn wasn't happy about Daryl's decision but he didn't argue further. The same stubbornness that made Daryl determined to ride again also made him diligent with his exercises. He was improving daily.

* * *

The sun was high in the Texas sky when Daryl dropped into the chute at the Amarillo tri-county fair and strapped himself to the bull. Glenn was praying for eight as they pulled the gate but Daryl just hoped not to disgrace himself. He didn't. The bull was an active one. He tried sunfishing but Daryl maintained balance. He even spurred the bull a couple of times for style points. He covered the full eight seconds and, still in control, managed the dismount without injury. It was damn near perfect. The judges weren't blind and they gave him the scores to prove it.

Afterwards Daryl and Glenn stood behind the rails to one side of the arena.

"I did something," Glenn said nervously. "I hope you can forgive me."

Daryl looked nervous, too. "We'll talk later."

From the announcing booth Big Bob Hosteen's voice rang out: "Folks, that was a beautiful sight and I hope you were paying attention because I've been asked to tell y'all that it was Daryl Dixon's final ride. Daryl is a Georgia boy but we don't hold that against him. He's been a fixture and a favorite on the circuit for 18 years. Daryl wants to thank his friends and sponsors and all the fans for the best time of his life, and he's grateful to his physical therapist Glenn Chang who got him ready for one last ride."

Bob went on to review Daryl's career.

Daryl and Glenn looked at each other.

"I didn't say that about the best time of my life," Daryl said.

"I didn't put that in about me," Glenn said.

"You handed in a retirement notice for me?" Daryl said.

"I didn't think you were smart enough to do it yourself," Glenn replied.

"Gave it to Big Bob first thing this morning," Daryl said.

"I gave him mine a couple of hours ago. I told him it was from you."

"He must have wondered what was going on."

"Sounds like he just combined them. It was nice of you to mention me."

"Big Bob is exceeding his instructions. Nobody wants to hear all them numbers."

"Yes, they do. And it's his job to give the stats. Besides, they love you."

It was true. People saw Daryl and pointed and eyes turned in his direction. If they noticed the young man near him, it was for his clothes not his ethnicity. Glenn was in jeans but they weren't boot cut and he had a cap instead of a hat, a tee instead of a western shirt and sneakers instead of boots. He had told Daryl that he couldn't carry off the cowboy look and Daryl agreed.

The crowd went wild as Hosteen finished: "We wish Daryl Dixon all the best and hope to see him at the rodeo even if we can't see him in it."

Daryl was embarrassed but tried not to show it. He smiled and lifted his hat. The applause died away and the crowd's attention turned to the next event. Daryl and Glenn walked away. No one noticed when Daryl slung his arm around Glenn's shoulders.

"It sounded good what you put in about the best time of my life but it's not true."

"I don't believe that," Glenn said.

"Best time so far, maybe. But it's about to get better."


End file.
